No Way Out- The First Annual Hunger Games
by ZeldaFan1211
Summary: The Hunger Games. Created by President Emily Snow as punishment for the district's rebellion. Twenty-four teenagers. All with lives ahead of them, forced to kill each other. There is no escape, and no telling what will happen. So, with no way out, who will survive?
1. Part One: The Days Before

**Part One: The Days Before**

A look at Part One of "No Way Out...

* * *

"I volunteer as tribute!"

* * *

I know I can't let my sister go in alone, even if the Hunger Games are certain death. She is my twin after all.

* * *

There it is in all of its glory. The Capitol of Panem.

* * *

"I am not wearing that," I snap, shoving the costume back at her. "I will not go out in front of the entire country looking like a cow!"

* * *

"You're insane if you think I'd ever work with a psychopath like you!" he yells, grabbing a dagger from the weapon's rack and charging Lilliana.

* * *

Oh God, I don't know if I can do this. I've had a fear of public speaking ever since I was little, and now having to speak in front of all of Panem... I feel like I might faint.

* * *

"Don't pretend you're oblivious to it, Ethan," she laughs. "We've all noticed you and Kylie staring at each other."

* * *

"Let the first annual Hunger Games begin!"

* * *

Prepare yourself for the first annual Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor...


	2. Prologue: A Blood-Red Sky

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys, this is my first fanfiction and I would really appreciate it if you could leave a review so I may continually make my writing better. Thanks, and enjoy the story! **

**Prologue: A Blood-Red Sky**

* * *

**POV- President Emily Snow**

* * *

'_It has been a long week. On Monday, rebels from District 13 had stormed the gates of the Capitol, forcing my army of white-clothed Peacekeepers into the many winding streets and alleys of the city. On Tuesday I had been sent a memo stating that the leader of Panem's Peacekeeper force, Davis Bertley, had been killed in conflict. Wednesday had passed with the insurgents burning down our main armory, and on Thursday our lines were pushed back to the Inner Ring of the city. Finally, today-'_

I lift my silver pen from the rough parchment of my journal, nibbling on the end of the writing utensil. What had happened today? Nothing of consequence; more fighting and killing by those accursed rebels, but nothing worth writing down. Just common wartime news.

I lightly place the pen down beside my journal on the polished wooden desk, daintily lifting myself up from my cushioned "work chair" as I called it. My high-heeled shoes click on the oak paneled floor of my study as I strut stiffly across the room to the massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlook the entire Capitol.

The view outside hasn't changed much; black plumes of smoke continue to billow into the evening sky from today's battles and Peacekeepers dash about like ants in the courtyard below, hastily escorting civilians to their homes. I sigh, and am just reaching for the panel on the wall to change this dreary view to something more relaxing when a knock sounds on the study door.

"Come in," I moan irritably; of course someone has to visit me now, when I'm trying to relax. The door is slowly opened as my visitor steps into the room. I give them a quick glance to see that it is Jeremy.

Jeremy Kallets is, by my lofty standards, a very handsome man. He has long, wavy blonde hair over a crisp, defined face. His green eyes seem to sparkle in the setting sun's glow and, as he brushes off his ironed suit, I am reminded of his very stylish fashion sense. The man makes my husband look like a wild animal.

"Ah, very sorry to disturb you at this hour President Snow," he says in his crisp British accent, giving a quick bow. "But I am here to deliver several pieces of very important news."

I wave my hand in the air impatiently. "Go on."

"I have just received word from Colonel Vargas that three nuclear bombs were successfully dropped on District 13. A quick scan shows no survivors, and the district itself has been reduced to rubble."

"So District 13 is no more..." I slowly trail off, before the first smile I've had in a while lights up my face. "That means this rebellion is over. District 13 held the whole operation together, and if we have truly destroyed it then it should be a matter of days before my Peacekeepers retake control of the other districts!"

"Precisely," Jeremy nods. "We need to wait for conclusive evidence, but I believe that this war is finally over."

I sneer. "They never stood a chance. It was only a matter of time before this happened."

"I couldn't agree more; we won this war before it even started. And there is another piece of news I feel should be shared with you. I am sure you recall the project you sent me to work on before this rebellion?"

I freeze, the joyous expression on my face instantly replaced with a stern one. "Of course I remember that project. But I was under the impression that it had been abandoned during the rebellion."

"They were abandoned," came the reply. "But we've won. The war is over. And my colleagues have substantial data to begin construction on an arena. Think about it; this would be the perfect opportunity to study human reaction to dangerous situations like you initially wanted! This could be a furthering off our nation's science of human understanding-"

"Don't you speak to me about that science nonsense," I snap, slamming my hand down on the desk. "I may have been a scientist in the past, but these are new times. I have a country to rebuild, for God's sake!"

"Of course, President Snow," Jeremy muttered, giving an apologetic bow. "I just thought I should bring it up again. We have been working hard on bringing this project to fruition and I just thought..." The man trailed off, wringing his hands nervously. "But I of course understand if you wish to bury that project in the past."

"I do wish to bury that project, and I don't want to hear you speaking of it again!" I snap. "There are more important matters to attend to than my curiosity."

Jeremy gave another bow. "Yes, of course. We shall not speak of this again." For a moment, the duo waited in silence before Jeremy began walking towards the door. "I will inform you once the colonel sends a more detailed report of the District 13 bombings."

I watch as the man scurries out of the study and drum my fingers on the desk. The project... I wish it had worked out, wish I could have done it. But it was as I'd told Jeremy; the Capitol would need to be rebuilt and then the districts punished for their rebellion. But maybe... I give a slight smile that slowly grows wider and wider the more the idea grows. Maybe I could still do the project...

"Jeremy!" I call, watching as the man nervously reentered my study.

"President Snow," he said, hardly being able to keep the tremble of fear out of his voice. "You summoned me?"

"Yes, I did. You see, I have an idea that I wish to share with you..."

With that, I explain to Jeremy my plan. The more he hears, the larger the smile that grows across his face. By the time I finish, his mouth has grown so much I'm surprised it doesn't just swallow up his entire head.

"That would be excellent," he laughs. "The perfect way to punish the districts for their uprising, while still giving you the science research that you initially searched for."

"Precisely!" I reply. "I'm putting you in charge of this project. Get together a group and design an arena for this event. I'll handle the rest."

Jeremy gave a nod. "I'll get right on it. Would you like me to broadcast this news to the districts?"

"Oh no," I shake my head. "No, I would like to personally break the news."

* * *

**POV- Jeremy Kallets**

* * *

"People of Panem." Emily's voice booms through the television set, echoing around my apartment. I give myself a slight smile as I settle comfortably in a cushioned armchair. She can be terrifying, even over TV.

"People of Panem," she repeats. "There are many emotions running through my head at this very moment. Anger. Betrayal. But the word that describes my emotions best is disappointed. I am disappointed that you, the people who the Capitol has strove to protect and assist for so many years, would even consider to revolt against us.

"But your little revolution is over!" Emily brushes a piece of blonde hair out of her face. "District 13 has been bombed by our Capitol Air Force. There are no survivors."

She waits a minute to let that sink in. I can only imagine the reactions in the districts; crying, screaming, yelling in despair. But outside my window, I hear a loud cheer as the thousands of Capitol residents gathered in front of Emily's mansion to watch the speech live applaud and whoop at this news.

"At this very moment, Capitol Peacekeepers will be entering the districts to restore order and peace. I assure you than anyone who stands in their way will be severely punished."

Another pause. Another cheer. I shudder, only imagining what Emily means by "severely punished."

"Unfortunately, the presence of Peacekeepers is not enough to ensure that this terrible event will not repeat itself. As a result, I have formulated a plan."

Here it comes. The big announcement.

"In exactly one year's time, we will be hosting an event. Each of the twelve districts will have one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen randomly selected to come to the Capitol. Once here, these twenty-four children will be given two weeks to train with weapons and learn survival skills. Upon the conclusion of this time, these 'tributes' so to speak, will be sent into an arena where they will not be allowed out until twenty-three of them are dead."

A loud gasp pours through the audience in front of Capitol. "That one survivor will be declared the winner of this event and will be allowed to live in luxury for the rest of their life! Thanks to cameras filming every inch of the arena, the Capitol will make these games mandatory watching for all twelve districts. But let me tell you, it will be a television spectacle like no other!"

The gasps of shock in the plaza below are replaced with another series of loud cheers and shouts. On TV, I can see confetti falling all around Emily as she beams with happiness.

"This event will be overseen and orchestrated by a team of loyal Capitol residents, the Gamemakers. Led by Jeremy Kallets, they will design the arena and observe it during the event."

A large picture of my face popped up in the right hand corner of the screen. Despite the embarrassment of getting this much public attention, I can't help but smile.

"Thank you, thank you!" Emily called, waving out to the audience before turning back to the camera. "Now I speak directly to the districts; do not see this as a terrible punishment but rather an opportunity to prove to the world that you are a champion."

She pauses again, before giving her brilliant white-toothed smile to the camera. "I would like to thank you for tuning in to this announcement. Long live Panem, a united nation!"

With that the camera was shut off and the screen is filled with a still image of the Capitol logo, the country's national anthem proudly playing in the background. I grab the remote from the glass table in front of me, shutting of the TV, before pulling myself up from the chair and walking out onto my apartment's balcony. Below, I could see the thousands of Capitol residents continuing to cheer and applaud as an endless rain of confetti was dropped upon them.

I smile, leaning up against the metal railing as fireworks began to go off behind the President's Mansion. Long live Panem, a united nation.

**DISCUSSION QUESTION: I will be leaving a discussion question at the end of each chapter so that you have something to discuss in the comments. This chapter's question: What do you think the arena will be?**


	3. Chapter One: Reaping The Champions

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: So here's the first real chapter where you get to meet the District 1 tributes! I messed up my formatting, so this chapter's discussion question is going to go up top. Not much else to say about this one, so enjoy!**

**UPDATED NOTE: Hey guys, really want to apologize for the long wait time between this chapter and the next. Unfortunately, my computer crashed and deleted all my data (which included future chapters) so I'm going to have to put this story on hold until I can find/ retype them. Now don't fear, this does NOT mean the story is canceled, it just means it'll be about a month until the next update (fingers crossed it'll be sooner). Thanks, and may the odds be ever in your in your favor!**

**DISCUSSION QUESTION: What do you think of these two tributes?**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Reaping The Champions**

* * *

**POV- Hunter Jacobson: District 1**

* * *

_Clang!_ The sound of metal against metal echoes around the room. I grit my teeth, feeling sweat running down my forehead as my opponent quickly pulls his fencing rapier back, spinning in in the air.

"Come on, Jacobson!" he yelled, his voice muffled through the leather of the fencing mask. "It's game over! Just admit it; I've won."

I roll my eyes, adjusting my own mask to get a better view of my fencing partner. Ezriel Davis was a notorious stuck-up jerk around the district; I knew I had to put him in his place or he'd never shut up about winning.

"Oh, come on!" I shout back at him. "You know me better than that, Ezriel. I don't ever give up a fight... and I certainly aren't gonna lose to you!"

But as I speak, I notice his weak point. Ezriel's fencing sword only protects the right side of his body, leaving the left open to attack. I sneer, typical beginner weakness.

"You know Ezriel, you really need to watch your left better. Otherwise, you're an open target for someone to very easily-" I snap my rapier against his side, causing him to double up in pain. "Attack you when you least expect it." Another quick snap of the sword, this time sending Ezriel toppling down onto the floor. Both his fencing sword and helmet were knocked away, making it simple for me to place one foot on his chest while my rapier tickles the bottom of his chin.

"Well, Ezriel; hate to say it but I think this shows everyone which of us is the better fencer, am I right?" I look up at the small crowd assembled around the fringes of the room. I see several giving me a thumbs up while others irritably pull out their wallets to pay off some bet or another they'd made on this fight.

"Fine," Ezriel groans. "Whatever. You got lucky and found my weak point, congrats 'Master Fencer.'"

I just roll my eyes, removing my foot from his chest. "Alright, just keep telling yourself that. I wouldn't want to hurt your precious self-confidence!" A laugh from the assembled crowd. "Go back and fight toddlers, Ezriel. I think they're more your level."

The boy glares up at me, spitting a globule of blood onto the ground. "Just you wait, Jacobson," he spits. "You might think the world of yourself now, but someday something's gonna pull you back to reality that you aren't any better than the rest of us." With that, Ezriel leaps up from the ground and runs out of the combat room, slamming the thick glass doors behind him.

I laugh, slowly removing my fencing mask. What a drama queen! Ezriel knew he wasn't nearly half as good as the rest of us; he'd been struggling all year.

"Nice job, Hunter!" Karen's voice sounds right next to my ear. I smile, turning to kiss my girlfriend on the cheek.

"Eh, he was nothing," I reply. "About as easy an opponent as they come. My freaking grandma could probably beat him!"

Karen just smiles, flipping her long black hair away from her face. "Don't belittle yourself; you looked good out there."

I just nod. Of course I did; I always looked good when performing a smack-down on others. "Come on," I say, wrapping an arm around her. "I'm hungry. Beating up Ezriel gives me a major appetite."

She giggles, a light and bubbly sound, while resting her head on my shoulder. "Let's go... Master Fencer."

I laugh along with her, leading Karen out of the training room. On my way out, I toss my rapier and helmet to a bored-looking school assistant, who dutifully begins hanging the items on their correct racks.

We stumble out through the double glass doors of the room and into the massive main courtyard. I feel the light spray of water from the huge fountain occupying the center of the space. I liked to call this the Victory Spray. Perfect for me.

Still clinging together, Karen and I begin to stroll across the courtyard. It was a very romantic evening (I've got eyes for that). The setting sun reflects its burning light off of the numerous windows gazing down at us from the three-storied boarding school that surrounds the open yard, allowing the fountain water to glisten and shine as the glow danced across it.

"Ready for the big day tomorrow?" Karen asks, removing her head from its perch to look up at me.

"Yeah but I'm not that stressed, chances are I won't be picked. Remember, everyone in the district put their name in, so it's just those two unlucky chaps that'll get drawn." This was why, if I thought about it, tomorrow's Reaping didn't concern me. I was lucky.

"But what if you do?"

This was a question I hadn't thought much about. "I'm not counting on getting drawn, but I suppose if I do I'll just hope for the best. No one knows what to expect from the Games, besides the fact that the tributes kill each other. But you know how good I am at that with my martial arts and all!"

Karen just nods, slowly dropping her head back onto me. "I hope neither of us is picked. I'd much rather stay here with you and watch it on TV."

"Yeah, me too. But our chances are so low, don't lose any sleep over it."

"I know." For a minute we walk on in silence, passing through the lofty cobble archway marking the entrance of the school. The words District One Preparatory Academy could faintly be seen etched into the stone.

Finally, I decide this silence has gone on too long. "So where do you wanna go?" I ask, lightening the mood.

Karen perks up at this conversation topic; it was far less gloomy than the one before. "Oh I don't know, the Padolt's restaurant always has great milkshakes! Let's go there!"

"Padolt's it is." I take Karen's hand, leading the way along the tree-lined lane to the restaurant. But as much as I tell myself to stop worrying about it, the Reaping continues to pop into my head. Yes I'm lucky, but my gut keeps telling me my luck is about to run out.

And my gut is usually right.

* * *

**POV- Alice Padolt: District 1**

* * *

'_Hippomane Mancinella or Manchineel: An extremely poisonous tree native to Southern Panem, manchineel trees bear both toxic apples and sap which, is consumed or touched, can cause blindness and respiratory problems and, in most cases of consumption, death.'_

"Interesting," I murmur, hastily scribbling down this piece of information into the notebook on the counter beside me. "Sounds like a fun tree."

"ALICE PADOLT!" The loud yell suddenly pulls me back to reality. Reminds me that I'm not in the world of my textbooks, but the world of District 1. The world of living with him.

My father storms out from the restaurant kitchen, wiping his brow with a filthy rag. "What the hell happened to my oven! And why the hell are you still reading that damn book!"

"It's not a 'damn book' father," I grumble, quickly pulling the textbook shut. "This is a learning tool explaining to me the natural wonders of our world."

"Does it look like I care?!" The reply blasts my eardrums, like everything he says. Surprise, surprise. "Just go and get that oven figured out!"

I slowly pull myself out of the rotating bar stool that I'd claimed as tonight's study zone, tossing my supplies off the long linoleum restaurant countertop and into a backpack. "And DON'T let me catch you reading your 'learning tool' before the work is done around here!" my father shouts at my retreating figure.

I just sigh, weaving my way around the wooden tables of the diner and through the back doors into the kitchen. He was always like this; a complete jerk. Never capable of getting anything to work, and always blaming the closest person for his problems. In most cases, that unfortunate soul was me.

The oven was an easy fix; he hadn't turned on the gas tank. Something every restaurant owner knew. Or at least, almost every restaurant owner.

"All right father," I call, walking stiffly across the kitchen to the open window looking out behind the counter. "The oven has been fixed, just like you so kindly asked me. Your welcome."

No reply. Typical of him. I roll my eyes, grabbing my backpack and dropping to the floor. He was probably off getting drunk in his bedroom upstairs, leaving me with a few hours of quiet. But just as I reopen my 'Plants of Panem' textbook, I hear the jingle of the restaurant's door bell as someone (or by the sounds of it, two people) enters.

"My God, can't I have a minute of quiet?" I grumble, dropping the book back into my backpack, tucking my long, straight black hair behind my ear, and standing up to see who the untimely customers were. But as soon as I saw, I instantly wished I'd stayed behind my wall.

It was freaking Hunter Jacobson. Otherwise known as the world's second largest jerk (just behind my father). He's leaning against the entry doorframe, pushing his wavy blonde hair out of his face with several spindly fingers. And of course his clingy girlfriend is with him, hugging his arm.

But despite my dislike for him, business is business and it doesn't seem my father is going to come serve them leaving it up to me. Again.

"Welcome to Padolt's Diner," I recite in a monotone voice, standing stiffly behind the counter. "My name is Alice, and I'll be your server today. Please feel free to look at our menu so-"

"Hey," Hunter cuts me off in his brutish voice. "Aren't you that nerdy girl from school? The one who's always in the library?"

"Okay," I hiss, deciding against the helpful server act. "Do you want me to serve you, or not? Because I can very easily call for the Peacekeepers and-"

"Okay, okay, calm down," Hunter interrupts me again. Jeez, has anyone ever taught him manners? "Didn't mean any harm, I was just curious. You know that feeling, recognizing someone's face but can't remember who they are? But you have to know their name?"

"No."

An awkward pause. "Anyways," Hunter says, plopping himself down on one of the bar stools. "We'll both take the chocolate shake."

I decide it isn't worth wasting any breath acknowledging him and instead turn back towards the kitchen. "Why is it always me?" I murmur under my breath, before beginning work on Blonde Jerk's milkshake.

* * *

**POV- Hunter Jacobson: District 1**

* * *

"Did I say something?" I inquire to Karen as Alice marches off in a huff. "Just trying to be nice to my fellow classmates..."

"Don't worry about it," Karen replies, twirling a strand of black hair around her finger. "I've heard she can be a bit moody. Probably nothing personal."

"Yeah." Another pause. "You know, I wonder if she's nervous about the Reaping tomorrow."

"I told you not to talk about that!" Karen snaps. "Remember, two people in the entire district will be Reaped. It isn't gonna be me, you, or her; just some unfortunate kids who didn't have luck on their side."

"I know, but that doesn't mean we can't think about it!" I'm still worried; that sinking feeling that something bad's going to happen at the Reaping tomorrow hasn't left me. "It's just kind of a big deal, that's all."

Karen just sighs, resting her head on the linoleum counter. "I know what you're thinking, and I know that you're wrong. Nothing bad is gonna happen tomorrow. I promise."

* * *

**POV- Alice Padolt: District 1**

* * *

I can hear everyone's favorite dysfunctional couple arguing about the Reaping out in the restaurant. "It's a waste of time for you to be arguing about that," I grumble, pouring a cup of blended chocolate ice cream into a glass dish. "No matter how much I may wish you'd be Reaped, it isn't gonna happen. The odds are too low."

_'But aren't you worried about the Reaping?' _that stupid voice of my conscience whispers. _'What if you get Reaped?'_

_'She isn't worried.' _That's my other voice, the voice of the demon inside me. _'It would be a dream come true if she's drawn. She'd never have to see abusive daddy anymore.'_

This causes me to freeze, almost spilling ice cream across the kitchen counter. No matter how much I tried to deny it, the demon voice was right; being Reaped would be an eternal escape from my father. No more beatings, no more yelling, no more sending me off to some stupid boarding school so he doesn't have to see me. I would be free.

_'She doesn't want that,' _the conscience replies. _'Even if he can be abusive, they're still family. Alice wouldn't want to enter a certain death competition just to escape him.'_

_'Or does she?' _the demon hisses. _'You know what you truly want Alice. Escape. Freedom.'_

Is that what I really want? To die, just so I never have to see my father again? Just to get a moment of freedom?

"You're wrong," I snap, forcing the demon back into the pit of my stomach from where he'd came. But even as I said those words, I knew I didn't believe them.

* * *

**POV- Hunter Jacobson: District 1**

* * *

I am awoken the following morning by my alarm clock's rendition of 'We Are The Champions.' Mrs. Daslong, my history teacher, had explained that this was a popular song from the nation that was here before Panem. To me, it was hard to believe that there had been life before our nation. But despite this, I loved this song. It reminded me of myself.

"Rise and shine everyone!" the deep voice of Henry Cavill thunders through the dormitory. "We have a big day today!"

That's right. Reaping Day. The day I couldn't forget about, no matter how hard I tried.

Light shines into the room as Henry rips open the curtains covering the windows, giving us another loud shout to wake up. I squint through the glaring inferno as I slowly rise from my gilded four-poster bed, reminding myself of what Karen had said last night. I'd be okay. She'd be okay. Neither of us would be Reaped.

But no matter how much I said it in my mind, I couldn't make myself believe it. Everything wasn't going to be all right; not until the Reaping was over and I was on my way back to District One Preparatory Academy.

"Okay, let's all get dressed double-time!" Henry yells. I hear a loud thud as he drops himself onto his bed. "Headmistress Sammantha wants everyone in the courtyard before seven o'clock so we can all walk down to the Reaping in the town square."

"Can't we get a few more minutes of sleep?" That was Ezriel's grating voice. To be honest, I wouldn't mind if he got Reaped.

"No, we cannot Ezriel. I know it's early, but this could very well be the beginning of one of the largest events ever hosted in Panem. We should feel honored to be able to witness it."

By now my eyes have adjusted to the light, allowing me to open them. The other boys in the dorm are slowly rolling out of bed, all in various stages of waking up. Ezriel is sulking on the floor (what a surprise!) while Henry continues his march around the room, shouting out orders. God, who put him in charge?!

But this was it. The last two hours before I would either be on my way to a deadly television show, or back at school feeling sorry for whatever poor kids got Reaped. Hopefully, God willing, it would be the latter.

* * *

**POV- Alice Padolt: District 1**

* * *

Seven o'clock. Way too early to be dressed in the school's stupidly uncomfortable uniforms and assembled military style in the courtyard. The weather even reflects this dreary situation; clouds cover the sky overhead while a blustery wind whips through our bodies. This day couldn't get any better.

Headmistress Sammantha, standing stiffly atop a quickly built wooden stage and wearing an equally severe dress, blabbers on about what an honor it is to attending the first Reaping, why it is a privilege to be drawn, yadda yadda ya. After she finishes, we are all dismissed and told to "walk down to the city square in an orderly fashion and make a good impression on the Capitol Peacekeepers." Yeah, like that's gonna happen.

Surprisingly enough, not a single word is spoken as we file through the streets of District One. Despite all of the confidence and lack of worry most of the students had displayed over the past week, it appeared all were now immersed in their own thoughts, probably each playing out a scenario in which they were Reaped. At least, that's what I'm doing. I can almost imagine my name being called out to the assembled audience, can see myself walking slowly but proudly up to the stage, can see myself shaking hands with my fellow tribute. But unlike everyone else, I don't feel nervous. Instead I feel a strange, relaxing calm.

As we march our way towards the square, I also notice an increase in Peacekeepers. The white-clothed guardians of Panem are normally spread out across the sprawling district. But today, groups of four or more stand at every street corner, watching the sea of citizens slowly move towards their destination.

Finally, we flow underneath a massive stone arch and enter the center square. The area has been completely redone for the Reaping. A huge stage stands in front of the marble Justice Building, long silk banners bearing the Capitol emblem hanging from its wooden railing. The stage itself is empty, save for a single podium on its center.

To the right of the stage, a huge black screen hangs from the side of an apartment building. To be honest, I have no idea what its use could be. Probably just another part of the lavish performance the Capitol is sure to put on.

But what really catches my attention are the Peacekeepers. I'd thought there'd been a lot across town, but hundreds are packed into the square. Some are stationed against the walls, holding threatening iron batons in their hands. Some are escorting the crowds of people into specific areas based on gender and age. Still more are making marks on clipboards, most likely marking who's at the Reaping... and who isn't. I shudder at the thought of what'll happen to the few who didn't come to this mandatory event.

"Boys, make a line on the right of me and girls make a line on the left!" Headmistress Sammantha's voice booms across the square despite the noise. Slowly, not daring to disobey, the students around me begin separating into their two lines. I roll my eyes at the ridiculous nature of this before plodding into the girls line.

Next comes a Peacekeeper with a clipboard. He asks us our name and draws a mark on a class roster in his hand. So I was right. They are making sure everyone is here to watch two children be picked to go fight to the death. Even I have to admit that that is absolutely sick. And not in a good way.

Then we are corralled into a tight pack of girls around my age who stand on the left half of the courtyard. This is where we will wait. Wait for the Reaping to begin.

* * *

**POV- Hunter Jacobson: District 1**

* * *

This Reaping is getting worse by the minute. First it's the uniforms. The short sleeved dress shirt and khaki shorts aren't doing much to protect us from the frigid wind blowing through the town square. Then it's the downcast feeling of the the whole event. With the hundreds of emotionless Peacekeepers standing guard and escorting people to certain sections of the square, and the citizens with lowered eyes, bowed heads, and limited conversations; one couldn't help but get a very negative vibe from the whole thing.

And now we are waiting. Waiting for the latecomers to be checked in. Waiting for the Peacekeepers to hunt down the unfortunate souls who weren't marked on their clipboards. Just waiting.

Suddenly, a gunshot explodes into the air from the direction of the stage. I gasp, instantly turning in that direction, only to see it is one of the Peacekeepers trying to get our attention. And it worked. All conversations were instantly brought to a halt.

"Thank you for your attention," the Peacekeeper says, strapping his pistol to his belt. "I would like to introduce to you the escort for District One, Cersei Bones!"

A polite round of applause rose up from the audience as the double doors of the Justice Building are pulled open by two Peacekeepers, allowing quite possibly the most flamboyant man I'd ever seen to come walking out. He wears a long, sparkling purple robe with a pair of shiny black shoes clicking on the wood of the stage. But what really caught me about him was his face. Cersei had a very unnatural head. I couldn't tell exactly what it was, maybe the eyes were too close or the lips were too large or maybe it was was sparkly pink hair. But it was obvious that this man had had thousands of dollars of plastic surgery done to make himself "fashionable for the Capitol."

"Welcome, welcome!" he shouts excitedly, stepping up to the podium. "And once again, welcome to a monumental event in Panem's history!"

"He seems very feminine," the boy beside me whispers and I can't help but snicker. I wonder if everyone in the Capitol was like Cersei.

"Today, as you all know, is the first Reaping of the Hunger Games!"

Another light round of applause rises from the crowd, but I could tell no one really meant it. For two of us, the Hunger Games would be three weeks of hell.

"Now before we begin the festivities, the Capitol has asked that all districts watch a short video explaining the Hunger Games and why it is that we host this marvelous event!" With that, Cersei jabs a button on the podium with one of his yellow-painted fingernails. Instantly, the many lights illuminating the square shut off and the massive screen turns on to show the Capitol logo.

"A year ago, the thirteen Districts of Panem rebelled against the Capitol." The voice that emanates from the screen was vaguely familiar and it took me a moment until I realize who it is performing the voiceover; President Emily Snow. "Though the fighting was long and fierce, the Capitol proved dominant and crushed this foolish rebellion. But though we are forgiving and benevolent, we must make certain that our country is never fractured by rebellion again. This is why the Treaty of Treason was created."

Instantly, the Capitol logo disappears and is replaced by a still of several people hunching over a desk. If I'd have to guess, this was a still image of the writing of the Treaty of Treason.

"The treaty states that for every year that Panem remains established all twelve of the remaining districts would send two randomly chosen tributes, one boy and one girl between the ages of twelve and eighteen, to the Capitol where they will be sent into an arena to fight to the death until only one victor remains. This pageant will be forever known as the Hunger Games."

Once again the image on the screen changes, this time to a still of a single man standing on a podium holding his arms in the air in triumph. "For the boy or girl who wins the Games will be a life filled with glory, riches, and fame. He or she will be forever immortalized in the history of Panem."

With that, the screen went black and the voiceover fades. I turn back to Cersei who has been standing on the podium smiling throughout the entire video. A shudder runs through my body. No matter how great Panem may be, this heartless sacrificing of children was nothing to be smiling about.

"Thank you for that, Madame President!" Cersei smiles, applauding as loud as he could. A reluctant smattering of clapping eventually rose from the audience as well, but I can once again tell that it was insincere.

Cersei, realizing the lack of enthusiasm from the crowd, slowly drops his hands back onto the podium. "So, erm, why not start the Reaping! We don't want to be standing around all day, and I'm sure you're all dying to see who gets the honor to attend the Hunger Games! But don't forget, even if your name isn't Reaped, you can still volunteer for the tribute of your gender."

If that was a pun, it wasn't funny. And I certainly wasn't volunteering for anyone.

"All right then, ladies first."

So here it is, the moment I've been dreading. The Reaping. Hopefully my gut is wrong and I'll be back at school in an hour. My chances aren't that high for being Reaped; unlike many other District One families who had their children put extra slips into the drawing for more food, I had input the minimum amount. It wasn't a big deal, considering I had no parents to-

"Karen Underwood!"

* * *

**POV- Alice Padolt: District 1**

* * *

Oh, would you look at that. Little Miss Clingy Girlfriend was the first to be Reaped. I watch (quite smugly, I must add) as everyone in the audience slowly turns their heads toward her, parting to let her through. Karen is pale white and shivering, looking in horror at the stage where Cersei now holds her name.

"Karen Underwood! Is there a Karen Underwood here?"

Karen slowly raises a shaky hand.

"Ah, very good!" Cersei extended a hand. "Come on up dear. There's no need to be shy, you ought to feel honored to be the first ever Hunger Games tribute."

Suddenly, I hear a loud cry of, "Karen!" from the boy's side of the courtyard. Sounded like Monsieur Jerk to me. Probably crying about his girlfriend. My smile grows even larger.

But as it does, that other thought vying for attention in my head speaks up. My inner demon.

'_Now's your chance,'_ it hisses. _'Remember what Cersei said? You can volunteer for a fellow tribute. You could take Karen's spot and enter the Games. Regardless of whether you win or not, you'd never have to see your father again.'_

Even my other voice had nothing to say to that. So I suppose that was one decision made.

"I volunteer as tribute," I sigh, raising a hand into the air. Instantly, a loud gasp runs through the crowd. Karen turns her tear-streaked face towards me in shock. I know what they're all thinking. Why would Alice do anything selfless? Why would Alice the loser help out anyone?

But it didn't matter. I'd show them all when I win the Hunger Games and never see any of their sorry faces again.

"Well, isn't this exciting!" Cersei laughs. "A volunteer on our very first Reaping! Come on up little girl!"

God, do I hate being called 'little girl.'

I walk confidently towards the stage, elbowing past a still-shocked Karen on my way up. I didn't do this for her. I hope she knows that.

"What's your name, my young friend?" Cersei smiles once I step up beside him on the stage.

"My name is Alice Padolt," I reply as emotionlessly as I could.

"Well, Alice, I must say I didn't expect someone to volunteer so early on. But I suppose it shows what a loyal Capitol citizen you are, wanting to participate in this wonderful event. May I get a round of applause for Alice?!"

A short burst of applause rises up to me from the District One citizens. They sound about as enthusiastic as when Cersei was first introduced.

"Well then, let us now Reap the boys!" Cersei gives me another tap on the shoulder before reaching for the large glass sphere labelled "Boys" sitting on his podium. But as he does I can't help but smile. I won't ever see him again.

* * *

**POV- Hunter Jacobson: District 1**

* * *

I can't believe it. Alice of all people volunteering herself for Karen! While I'm incredibly happy for her, I couldn't believe this turn of events. Now Alice stood confidently on the stage as Cersei began reaching into the boy's glass sphere. I'd had a close shave with Karen, but now was the real moment of truth. Now was the moment I would either feel a sense of relief... or a sense of doom.

Finally, Cersei draws out a sheet of paper, slowly unfolding it to look down at the name. "Hunter Jacobson!" he yells.

No. No, this cannot be happening. This must be a bad dream of some kind. I'm going to wake back up in my dormitory. I can't have been Reaped.

But I don't, despite my pinching of my arm. This is real. For a moment, I look around at the other boys standing around me. Desperately hoping someone would volunteer. But no one does.

Slowly, I begin to walk across the concrete square. I was right. My gut had been telling me, but I'd been ignoring it. Now it was actually happening. My worst nightmare.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, I arrive at the foot of the stage. I don't feel myself ascend the stairs for now numbness has set in. It's the best way for me to deal with this new situation without breaking down in front of everyone.

"Very nice to meet you, Hunter!" Cersei smiles, extending his arm for me to numbly shake. "I'm sure that you'll make your district proud!"

Without skipping a beat, Cersei turns away from me and back to the audience. "So there you have it folks! The District One Hunger Games tributes! I know that both of these fine young adults will do your fair home proud. We will be holding a session in two hours here at the Justice Building where any friends or family may wish our tributes goodbye. Once again, thank you for being such a wonderful audience. But before we go, let's see a bit of sportsmanship! Hunter, Alice, if you would please shake hands?"

I don't feel my arm rise up or feel my fingers clench around Alice's. I know I shook her hand because of the applause, but my mind is elsewhere. Elsewhere, and thinking about how downright unlucky I'd been.

I was going to the Hunger Games.


End file.
